


Sucker Punch

by st4rlabsforever (omaken)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8664421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaken/pseuds/st4rlabsforever
Summary: While the Winter Soldier was a menace, Sam is starting to see that Bucky Barnes is just a little shit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my first foray in sambucky. hope you guys enjoy it!

Bucky is bored. He’s bored and tired of the constant meetings and debriefings and being cooped up inside Wakanda, and he’s grateful to T’Challa for granting him safe haven – he really is – but he’s going stir crazy with nothing to do.

Sam is one of the few reassuring presences in his life right now, visiting when he can, bantering with Bucky and giving as good as he gets. Just the little things that keep Bucky sane.

“On three,” Sam says, raising his fists and planting his bare feet firmly into the training mat.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Bucky braces himself.

They size each other up, neither of them willing to make the first move. Until Bucky blinks, and Sam is suddenly on him, jabbing once, twice, then crossing it up with an uppercut that Bucky just barely manages to avoid. He responds with a sweeping kick that knocks Sam clean off his feet.

Bucky seizes on the opportunity and straddles Sam, holding down both his arms above his head with the metal hand.

“Yield.”

Sam narrows his eyes, and Bucky knows this is _far_ from over.

And Bucky isn’t sure why he does it – maybe just to see if it’ll actually work, or maybe just out of pure boredom at this point. He reaches the non-metallic arm behind him and slides it down Sam’s torso, feeling out the grooves between ribs. He presses his thumb into a point just below the ribcage, and rubs back and forth.

Sam’s eyes widen and his breath hitches, but before he can truly react, Bucky reaches his index finger around Sam’s backside and pokes between two ribs. His middle and ring fingers seek out the cluster of nerves Bucky knows sits just beneath the thoracic vertebrae.

The response is instantaneous.

Sam _shrieks_. Neurons and synapses fire off, and Sam bucks his entire body as it registers the sensory assault. It’s so abrupt that Bucky has to tighten his legs in order not to be throw cleanly off of him.

“Oh – oh my _god!_ ” Sam shouts. It’s like a floodgate has been opened as the waves of laughter completely overwhelm him. “Wh-what _is_ that?”

Bucky smirks. “Sensitive nerve.”

“Ah! Ohohoh my god.” Bucky really has to focus to pick out the words in between the bouts of laughter that are quickly growing more desperate.

Slowly but surely, Bucky’s been picking apart the good memories from the bad with Sam’s help. Beneath even the memories is the combat knowledge seared into his brain forever. Things like how to assemble a sniper rifle with one arm tied behind his back. Like the location of every pressure point and nerve cluster on the human body. With just a little bit of force, striking the right points could cause debilitating, even fatal damage.

This though? This is hilarious. Bucky is trying to turn those sorts of things on their heads. To prove to himself that not all of the knowledge locked up in his brain is or has to be used for killing.

And Bucky knows it’s a novel trick. The only reason Sam’s laughing himself hoarse right now is because he was caught off-guard, not expecting Bucky to...well, to tickle him in the middle of sparring. Sam is more than a formidable opponent on most days, but today is not most days.

The key to hand-to-hand combat is to conserve energy and only strike when absolutely certain of a sure hit. In a drawn out fight, they both know that the first to tire is the first to fall, and Sam’s already expended most of his stamina thrashing aimlessly. Even on a good day, Sam generally can’t break free of the metal arm; his maneuvers are usually more calculated, working to turn Bucky’s weight against him or forcing Bucky to commit to a move that will leave him wide open. But now, his movements are uncoordinated and sloppy, his energy is flagging, and Bucky knows he’s close to breaking.

And okay, Bucky knows there’s going to be hell to pay for this later, but if his grin is absolutely shit-eating? Well, he can’t really help it.

“Yield,” Bucky commands again.

“Fuck no.”

The taunting seems to renew Sam’s energy. It’s fine. Bucky is still firmly in control of this match, and he’s still got a few more tricks up his sleeve.

He reaches his arm further back, past Sam’s thigh, past where his workout shorts end, and behind his knee. It’s a methodical process. He presses over tendons and muscles, and gages Sam’s reaction.

Bucky knows when he’s hit his target, because Sam _howls_. “No! No, no, no, no, no,” he cries, before he’s rendered incapable of speech again and dissolves into helpless laughter. He’s laughing so hard that there are fresh tears streaming down his face, and then Bucky can’t really help but chuckle along, too.

Of course, Bucky’s patient – always has been. Sergeant Barnes was patient back when he scoped out targets with the Howling Commandos. The Winter Soldier, too, was regrettably patient when carrying out his missions. And right now, Bucky Barnes is patient as he waits for the inevitable.

Bucky doesn’t have to wait long, though; it’s only fifteen more seconds before Sam shouts, “yield!” He gulps in precious air as Bucky finally stops his assault. “I yield!”

Bucky grins. He releases his hold, ruffles Sam’s hair, and rolls off of him. The second Sam feels the weight pressing on him disappear, he curls into a ball, breathing heavily as the aftershocks course through him.

“Worst. Ever.” Sam says between deep breaths.

The two of them lie in silence on the mats, the gentle whirring of Bucky’s arm a sharp contrast to the heavy inhale and exhale of Sam’s chest.

Finally, Bucky picks himself off the floor and extends an arm to Sam, who takes it readily. “One zero to me,” Bucky says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Keep telling that to your cheating ass.”

They dive right into round two, and Bucky isn’t going to try anything like that again – at least, not for a long while, and only when Sam least expects it – but when he feints to Sam’s right, extending wiggling fingers towards Sam’s ribcage, he can’t help the smug grin on his face as Sam immediately jumps back, instinctively shielding his torso.

“You’re such a dick, Barnes.”


End file.
